


Never Gets Tired

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl is always so upbeat at press events. Chris wonders how he does it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Gets Tired

Chris pushes his hair back and drinks gratefully from a Diet Coke handed to him by someone or other—he can't recall the name right now. He's so tired, he can barely remember his own name. The junkets have been nonstop and Chris can't remember what he even said to the last reporter. Something about dedication? Craft? Nachos? Fuck knows. He's about ready to fall on his knees and beg someone for a caffeine IV.

When Karl walks over, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Chris fights a scowl. The guy always manages to be so _on_ , it's ridiculous. It's like he actually enjoys answering these asinine questions all day.

"You look like you could do with a year of sleep," he comments, looking Chris over. Chris knows from a recent trip to the men's room that he's sporting a killer set of under-eye bags, and his skin has taken on an attractive, sickly pallor.

"At least," he mumbles against the lip of his soda can. "You look chipper, though. Fellated any mics today?"

Karl grins. "I only do that in front of an audience; you know that."

"How do you do it, man?" Chris rubs at his left eye with the back of his hand. Karl bats it away gently, giving him a stern look that says _Don't get ill, we're on a press tour, genius_ and Chris really wants to punch him, right in the shoulder. "Fuck off."

"You fuck off. And do what?"

"How do you stay so alert and good-spirited throughout all this...this hoopla? It's a fucking drag."

"You forget that I had to promote _Rings_ ," Karl says, smirking. "This is a cake walk in comparison. You'll get used to it."

"Yeah, yeah. Done it all and seen it all. Back in my day, we walked through the snow in flip-flops and fought piranhas. Blah, blah, blah."

Karl sighs, long and beleaguered. "You, precious, are a world-class brat." He plucks the Diet Coke from Chris' hand and takes a sip, ignoring Chris' whine of protest. "Hush. Now, listen." He steps closer to the counter where Chris is perched and when their thighs brush together, Chris suddenly feels more awake than he has all day. Karl smirks, taking note of the spark in Chris' eyes, and lowers his voice. "We've got a well-deserved day off tomorrow, so we're going to sleep in late—very late—and eat breakfast in bed and drink lots of coffee and have the most luxurious, slow-paced, lazy sex we can manage. And soon enough, you'll be rested and raring to go once again, so don't worry your darling, fluffy head."

He hands back the soda, looks around to make sure they're not being watched, and then presses his lips gently to Chris' scalp. The spot tingles and Chris sighs, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. But then Karl shifts away, winking as he moves back toward the main room.

"Tomorrow," he says, wagging a finger. "Or more accurately, tonight."

Chris touches his hair self-consciously and grins. "Don't swallow any audio equipment on your way back!" he calls.

Karl flips him the bird. It's the most romantic thing ever.


End file.
